


Chagrin

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Homeward Bound [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Detective Stiles, Everything is terrible, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Sciles, Teen Wolf AU, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:24:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott knows he's out of control and it's only a matter of time before he hurts Stiles or worse. The only way to save his friend is to break his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chagrin

Scott wasn’t sure how long it took for him to open his eyes again, awareness filtering through slowly as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. It still felt difficult to move, body relaxed and pliant from whatever they’d given to keep him calm, but at least he wasn’t restrained. He flexed his hands, the wounds healed but the muscles were stiff and sore.

It took another few minutes before he had oriented himself enough to pull himself upright, swinging his legs off the bed and setting bare feet flat against the cold floor. He didn’t risk standing, balance didn’t seem to be his friend right now.

_He’d lost Stiles._

He could feel the failure of it sharp enough to pierce through the haze in his still sluggish thoughts. There was no way he’d be trusted now, they’d seen exactly what kind of vicious monster lay beneath the skin. He was a ticking time bomb who had even turned on the one person who had actually trusted him. There was no way he could see Stiles again, he wouldn’t put his friend in that kind of danger. It was a mistake to have even tried, there wasn’t any going back to being that boy again when he couldn’t even pretend that he was human anymore.

The soft shuffle of papers let him know he wasn’t alone, but Scott didn’t bother to look up or acknowledge the doctor, listening to her speak without comment. She tried to reassure him, that losing control was normal in new patients and that they’d work through this and find a way to keep himself anchored, but he didn’t respond. Let them do what they wanted, none of it mattered now. They all knew what Peter had turned him into: a killer.

___

Stiles was pacing, and it was a miracle that was all he was doing. With every lap, he tried to pretend that what underlined every thought wasn’t anger. Eventually he’d be able to fool himself, if not anyone else. He was twitchy, and - no, not angry. Furious. The old itch of frantic energy thrumming beneath his skin was a familiar though unwelcome friend, and it left him itching for pills he hadn’t been prescribed in years.

He’d scrubbed his skin raw in the hot shower of a guest room he didn’t plan on using. It left him prickling and tender with sensation. He’d slathered bruise cream across his throat, designed to be scent free and as unobtrusive to those with supernatural healing as possible. It hadn’t felt like enough. He didn’t want anyone to know what had happened. He knew someone was bound to talk about it, that his superiors might possibly have gotten an incident report already - the Hale case was still an active beast. That didn’t matter. He just didn’t want Scott to remember what happened. 

When a tired orderly tried to explain the new precautions they’d be taking, he’d barely listened. The secured mountain ash area in the corner of the room, the nifty new tracking watch he’d been given to worn, the public areas Scott only had limited privileges to visit, among other things - none of  that mattered. Stiles wouldn’t kick apart the barrier, but he didn’t plan on using it. They probably weren’t ready to be taking field trips anyway, and the urge to smash his watch against the wall was seriously tempting. He just wanted to see Scott.

If Scott permitted it.

He practically lunged at Dr. Tate when she exited the room, scrambling past her like she’d change her mind and kick him out only to linger at the doorway. What he saw extinguished his fury like it was nothing more than a candle in the wind.

No, that was wrong. It postponed it. He couldn’t be angry around Scott, not when he looked like that.

"Hey, Scott." The words felt like a mangle olive branch, just a few seconds away from snapping. "Can I - can I sit there?"

___

Scott’s shoulders hunched tightly at the voice, hands gripping the edge of the bed. This was wrong, Stiles shouldn’t be here. He could have killed the other man, a few more minutes and who knows what could have happened? He wasn’t safe to be around, he was trained to be vicious and to obey a vicious hand, he was meant for the leash. Freedom and friendship and love, they weren’t things he could understand anymore no matter how much he wanted to.

He raised his head slightly, expression cold and eyes still glowing red. If Stiles was going to keep trying, better to make a clean break of it now. Let him see exactly what kind of creature he’d become, kill the hope before it had a chance to take root.

“Get out, Stiles.” He said quietly, dragging himself to his feet and swaying as he tried to keep his balance. “Give up. That boy you’re looking for is dead, he was killed years ago. There’s nothing left of him, stop trying. You’re just going to get hurt if you keep this up.”

Scott swallowed hard, feeling sick but committed. If this was what he had to do to drive Stiles away and make sure he was safe, he’d do it. He’d do anything. Even the thought that he could hurt the other man left him with a gnawing horror that tried to claw its way out of his chest. It was unbearable, he’d rather spend the rest of his life in chains than take that risk. _Be convincing, make him believe._

Slowly, he walked the length of the room to stop at the barrier of ash by the door and put a careful hand on the invisible force that trapped him. With a sudden snarl at Stiles, he slammed his fist against the barrier. “You want the truth, Stiles?! I killed for him and I was good at it. I _liked_ doing it for him and he’d reward me when I obeyed. I _wanted_ to make him happy. I’m not even close to human anymore, there’s no way to fix something like that. You’re an idiot for thinking they’d ever let me out of here, I know what they do to rabid animals. All you see when you look at me is what you wish I was instead of what I really am, walk away now because the next time I will tear your throat out and feel nothing. You should have left me where you found me…or put a bullet in my head.”

_I love you, I’m sorry. Better you should fear me than trust me and get hurt._

___

A burst of something bright enough to burn welled up in his chest, and Stiles wanted to get back into that bed. He wanted to pull up sheets that shouldn’t have been all that familiar and bury his face in Scott’s chest, and sleep the rest of the day away. He’d told his dad he’d call, but he’d been telling the Sheriff he’d call since college. Right now, Stiles just wanted  _them._

Then Scott met his gaze, and a stone sunk in Stiles’ belly. It felt too much like someone had pulled the floor out from under him, and he couldn’t stop falling. 

"Are you threatening me?" The words slipped out before he could stop them, fueled by reflexive defensiveness and just - how surreal everything was. It was Scott. He knew Scott. _ ~~Scott attacked him Scott hurt him Scott could be so angry~~_. This was the most cruel of jokes, but Stiles was scared and angry. He didn’t understand exactly what was going on, but he thought he understood enough.

"Are you - you think you can scare me off?" There was a lilt in his words, surprise softening the sharp edges, and Stiles had never been good at pulling his punches. "You already tried that. You tried to choke me. Twice _._ You can barely fucking walk… You think I don’t know?”

His heart was racing a mile a minute, and his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

I wanted to make him happy. _Liar_.

"I know everything. I found you. I tore that place apart -" His leg trembled, but he kicked the barrier aside, scattering grains across the floor. Cold sweat prickled down his back, but he used every inch of his height advantage to crowd into Scott, and all he wished he could do was hold him. "You think I don’t know how easy it would be to die? I know. You could kill me right now. You think that changes anything?!

"Cut the bullshit, Scott," Stiles demanded, but his voice cracked. "You need me."

___

Scott took a startled step back, surprised to find himself suddenly on the defensive and retreating. God damn idiot, too brave for his own good. Stiles never knew when he should just back off or when to give up, putting himself at risk because he never cared enough about the danger. Scott bared human teeth, unable to shift again as he gave up ground to try and keep the distance between them.

“You don’t know anything! You don’t know the things I’ve done, Stiles. You don’t know what I did willingly or the things I wanted. You see what you want to see, that’s it. I’m not that boy, I’ll never be him again and it’s time to let him go. I’m a monster and if you can’t accept that, you’re practically begging me to tear that pretty throat out.”

Why did he have to be so stubborn? Scott couldn’t hurt him, not now, but that didn’t mean the threat was empty. It was only a matter of time before he lost control again and the next time they might not be so lucky. He kept his body low, moving more like a cornered animal than a human and every tensed muscle screaming a warning to stay away. He kept his hands curled loosely at his sides, knowing that if he held them out to keep Stiles back, he’d most likely end up knotting them into the human’s shirt and pulling him close in desperation. Scott would never be able to let go if they touched. Breaking this off was the only way to keep his friend safe and the knife had to be sharp. Cut deep enough that it wouldn’t heal.

_I’m sorry._

“Need _you_? Ha! You want to know what I learned from Peter? How to use people to get what I want.  I thought you might be useful to help get me out of this place, that’s all. A couple of quick fucks, some empty promises and you’d be more than willing to go the extra mile to see me released. If you thought any of this was real, you’re more pathetic than I remembered. You’re useless to me now, get out before I leave your broken corpse in the hallway for the Doctor as a present.”

___

"You’re so full of shit," Stiles snapped, and he couldn’t remember being this infuriated by Scott, never Scott. He’d already forgiven Scott for murder, already forgiven him for anything he might have done in Peter’s company. It was easy because it was Scott. He had to wonder if Scott would ever be able to forgive himself.

"You care. You care about me. You care about this. You care about - about fucking 15 year old you, or you wouldn’t be doing this. You need me."

Splotches of color splashed across his features as he struggled to reel in his anger. Stiles wasn’t good at respecting boundaries. He’d never believed Scott had any, not with him, and he didn’t stop until Scott was backed into a wall, a mockery of their strengths, an abuse of everything his werewolf let him get away with.

Stiles didn’t know who he was trying to convince.

His hands were in Scott’s shirt, arm slung around his shoulders, dragging him as close as he could possibly go. Blunt nails dug into Scott’s skin, threatening to draw blood. Stiles wanted to believe he had a shot at keeping him.

"Do it." He rasped, and this must have been what it felt like to have a heart attack. Heat prickled behind his eyes, and he grit his teeth in a silent snarl. "I fucking love you."

___

He backed himself against the wall, eyes wide and panicked. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, why wasn’t Stiles afraid?! For all the werewolf’s strength, he couldn’t stand against Stiles’s anger, quailing under its fury. “S-stop. please, stop!” Scott begged, hands finding the human’s chest and trying to shove him away. He had to keep his distance, he couldn’t let him get too close, he couldn’t…

It was supposed to be the right thing, but it felt like his chest was full of shattered glass. Every ragged breath hurt, pieces grinding together until it felt like he was drowning in blood. It wasn’t _supposed_ to be like this at all. He was supposed to have finished high school and had all those thousand stupid teenage memories of bad dates and homework and stressing about meaningless gossip. They were supposed to have gone to college together and figure out that friendship meant something more, living together and causing so much trouble. They were supposed to face all the problems of growing up and the heartbreak and the victories together, it had all been stolen from him and now they had nothing. The only option was to try and hurt this man, the only good thing in his entire life, to save him.

“I will _kill_ you, don’t you get it?” Scott shook the human before he slumped against him, pressing his face against Stiles’s neck. “I’m not okay…I almost killed you, why can’t you just let me go? You don’t know me, walk away Stiles, please.”

___

That one faint, barely audible stutter had Stiles stopping in his tracks. Scott’s grip trembled, but when he fell forward, Stiles gripped him hard enough to leave bruises that would never stick. His shoulders slumped, bleeding tension out of his frame like he’d been cut open. That was Scott. That was him when he was with Scott. They took care of each other. They made each other play the right games. 

He cupped Scott’s cheek, urging him to look up. His palm was heavy against warm skin, but he brushed a kiss across the werewolf’s brow, swaying back and forth in the same spot like he had any bet of soothing him.

"Do you know what you did, Scott?" He asked, voice gravel rough. "You tried to protect me. Did anyone tell you that? I got unruly… You grabbed me, yeah. But you tried to - to get in front of me, like a shield. You wouldn’t let the others get to me. That’s it."   

He carded his fingers through Scott’s hair, and slowly walked him to the bed. They fell down heavily, but he wouldn’t let go. 

"You’re right… I don’t know you anymore. But I love a boy named Scott, and he’s my best friend. Even if you’re not him anymore, the man Scott grew up to be deserves a chance at - at a real life. So fuck you. I’m not going anywhere." Stiles exhaled raggedly, and closed his eyes. Scott was hurt, and he wanted to cry. That was them. "And I love you. Don’t need to know all about you for that."

___

He was made for fighting, slight but vicious and unafraid. He had never backed down from a challenge, taking out enemies twice his size with a brutal efficiency. He had never hesitated, never surrendered, knowing each fight would either end in victory or his death and yet he couldn’t stand against this one fragile human.  Stiles could bring him to his knees with just a word and a heartbroken look, he’d never be strong enough to fight against weapons like that.

Scott let himself be pulled from the wall and over to the bed, muscles relaxing without his consent at the feel of fingers stroking through his hair. Even without knowing him, Stiles _knew_ him. The scars inside were new, the open wounds that hadn’t healed, but the bones that kept him upright were the same. The heart was bleeding, but the same. The hands clawed and dangerous, but the same lines crossed them.  It was terrifying to look into those beautiful eyes and see the hope reflected there when he didn’t even recognize himself.

“But what about the next time? There’s always going to be a next time, I can’t control it. Just because I didn’t kill you this time doesn’t mean I won’t.”

The wolf pressed his face into Stiles’s chest with a sob, wishing he could just let go and knowing he wasn’t brave enough. This was selfish and wrong, protecting him was the only thing that ever mattered but Scott wasn’t a good enough man anymore to make the sacrifice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of the things I said, I don’t think that way, Stiles. I just can’t hurt you. I’ll be okay if you leave as long as I know you’re safe. It was enough for me before, I can do it again. Don’t let me drag you down with me, I love you. I love you, Stiles. If I ever…I couldn’t live with myself.”

___

"I know." It was sharper than Scott deserved, but what Scott deserved was the chance to hide away from the world that hurt him and the chance to breathe on his own terms. Stiles had let the words wash over him, like they could seep through his skin and settle into bone. Scott grounded him like this, and it was wrong and unfair, but he wasn’t afraid of this Scott. He could control him like this.

It was a calculated thought, out of place and glaring amid the relief that threatened to drown him. He knew victims. He knew what they were, how to identify them. People who were wronged, people who’d been beaten and lost control - it was part of his job. There was a way to talk to them, with soft tones and careful words. What no one ever talked about was the way to push them, to siphon as much information as they could provide while playing the good guy, the man with the badge. 

Stiles didn’t know how to align that with Scott McCall, but Scott McCall had been rewriting all his rules since they met.

Scott would kill himself after he killed Stiles. That was a fact.

He held on tighter. 

"I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Scott," he confessed, his knuckles brushing against his werewolf’s cheek. "You’re not the first werewolf to get in my way… And you’re not gonna be the one to stop me."

___

“You’re never afraid of the things that should terrify you. I don’t know whether you’re brave or just crazy.” It struck him that he didn’t know anything about Stiles either. He was human, but he’d faced down a crazed werewolf more than once and Scott was always the one who backed down. What had he learned over the years? How many monsters had he gone up against? The boy who had been too scared to even talk to the popular girl at school never flinched from a creature who could have torn him apart.

Scott turned his face into his friend’s hand, nuzzling against his fingers. “I’m terrified _for_ you. You’re reckless, you trust me and you shouldn’t.  I don’t care how many wolves you’ve faced down, you have to remember that _I’m_ a monster. Don’t ever trust me, don’t let me hurt you.”

This was a bad decision, but Scott didn’t have the energy to care anymore. Stiles’s hands had stripped the violence from him, leaving him gentle. “I never meant for you to see this. I wish I could be what you wanted…” He rubbed his hand against his face, ashamed to be crying. He should have known better, pretending to be that boy could never have lasted. What they had was a dream, lying to themselves that this was real and that they had a chance for a future.

He liked the lies better.

Leaning close, he pressed his lips to his human’s, writing his apologies in the physical touch. Hold on to the lies, they’d gotten him through worse.

___

"Prob’ly more crazy. I’m crazy for you." Stiles proclaimed, on the wrong side of frazzled as he pressed Scott into the sheets. His hands faltered in their path down his werewolf’s flank. He pinned him down with insistent hands and eager lips, turning the kiss into something filthy and desperate. He bit Scott’s lips red and flushed, like he could convince him to stay somehow, just like that. 

"It’s too late for that," Stiles rasped, taking a beat longer to realize that it might not have made any sense, not that it mattered. Nothing about this made sense. What was the slip of a tongue? Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have mattered what they’d said. They’d just understand. "I love you. I found you. I’m going to - I’m not going anymore. I’m not. You can’t get rid of me. So - so stop trying, and just."

His fingers curled into the front of Scott’s shirt, gaze heated like he thought he could will his friend into believing him. Stiles needed him to. “We can argue about anything else, but you don’t get a say in this.” 

Stiles believed in monsters. He fought them. He had no delusion of what werewolves were capable of. What he did, he wasn’t doing for _them_. He worked for Scott, for the people who could be like him, for the people forced to share their lives with beasts.

He cupped Scott’s cheek, forcing him to meet his eye. There was a jagged edge to his words. “You don’t scare me.”

___

Scott moaned into Stiles’s mouth, responding immediately to the touch. This he knew, this he understood. It grounded him, a desperate need that made it easy to forget all the fear and chaos. As long as he could make them both feel good, he wouldn’t have to think about anything else. It _was_ selfish, there’d been a time when he’d have been willing to take a stand for what was right and do whatever it took to protect the people that he loved but that part of him had been broken long ago. Survival was a selfish thing and parts of himself had to be sacrificed along the way.

He deserved to be hurt for this. He should be better.

He arched his body beneath him, throwing his head back and hands grasping at Stiles’s hips. “God, _please_.” Scott wasn’t sure what he was begging for, just that he needed this to stop. Anything to get Stiles to stop making promises he couldn’t keep. There was too much reality crashing in and he was drowning.

Panicked eyes looked up at the other man, too dark and too wide. This wasn’t right, he needed to control himself. He had to at least try to be a better man for Stiles. “You should.” Scott’s voice broke, flickers of rage edging out the pain. “You should be terrified of me, Stiles. If you don’t let me go, I will end up killing us both. 

___

There was something in that gaze that made Stiles stop cold in his tracks, startled and ashamed for it. Yesterday, he would have been pushing for what they both obviously wanted, heat still dancing through his nerves. He could taste Scott on his lips. He wouldn’t have to move far for the real thing, and yet lunch still seemed too close.

He pulled away, and didn’t know how he found the strength. He rolled off of Scott, until they were resting side to side, sharing a pillow but the inches between them felt too wide. Stiles hand remained flat against his werewolf’s hip. “I’m okay with that, Scott. I don’t need an alternative.”

This was bound to go badly. The odds weren’t stacked in their favor, and Stiles wasn’t the sort of person who could believe in a best case scenario. That was the sort of person Scott was - or the sort he used to be. Stiles still missed that boy. He kissed the man he’d become like he never wanted to say goodbye.

"We can’t keep doing this, Scott, not like this." He didn’t like how that sounded. Stiles licked his lips, a nervous gesture that hadn’t seen light in years. "I’m not doing this afternoon again… We need like - like a sign. To show when things go wrong. If I say something you really. Something you don’t like. If you want to stop. We need a safe word."

A choked laugh escaped him, and it didn’t matter that Stiles grin was twisted. It was sincere. “Figured my big mouth would mess with things.”

___

The sense of loss was staggering and Scott curled into himself, hands fisted into his hair and pulling hard. This wasn’t what he wanted, confronting the problem was too much when it would be so much easier to just lose himself in his friend and ignore anything else but making him happy. He gave a low growl of frustration before finally going still.

“I’m sorry.”

The wolf took a steadying breath, pressing his face into Stiles’s arm. “A safe word? You’re kidding, right? This isn’t some kind of S&M play, Stiles, I don’t need a safe word. I don’t want to stop, I just had…it was just a little slip.” He’d ruined things, he could see it. The fragile hope of a future, the plans that he thought might actually be real and he’d shattered them.

Scott ran his thumb across Stiles’s bottom lip, heartbroken. “Your mouth is terrible and wonderful, but it hasn’t messed anything up. I’m the one who screwed it up, I wanted so badly to keep you and I just can’t.” He shifted, sliding his legs around the human and straddling his body and leaned down to kiss the line of his jaw. “I know what the right thing to do is, but I’m scared to let you go. I want you so much, Stiles…I can’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you.”

Doing the right thing sucked. It would have been so much easier to be selfish, he had every intention of choosing what he wanted over what he should, but looking down at this beautiful perfect human, he couldn’t go through with it. Anything it took to keep him safe, he’d do it willingly. Anything for Stiles. He bowed his body, resting his head against his friend’s chest and breathed in his scent before climbing over him and carefully getting to his feet. “Get out. Don’t come back, Stiles. I don’t need your help.”

___

"No, fuck that - no. That’s the wrong thing. That’s the worst thing, you can’t-" Stiles scrambled to dissuade Scott almost as hastily as he got to his feet. That was wrong. Leaving after he’d found his friend, after over a decade of search, after the happiest he could ever remembering being - letting that go would be nothing short of a crime. He needed Scott to let him hold him. 

His grip curled into Scott’s shirt. He needed to make him stop. His features twisted in desperation, and their bed was right there. They could be so good together. They always had been. “No. I found you, Scott. You don’t get to do this. Eleven years - _eleven_. I’ll be the active investigator on your fucking case.”

His words rushed with panic, tone harsh and frantic with earnest. Stiles never saw why this could hurt more than help. He’d wiped away Scott’s tears. They didn’t have boundaries. Scott couldn’t leave him. 

"Please." His shoulders sagged, and he knew what Scott felt like tucked against him now. He couldn’t live without not feeling that again. "Just a month. If - if it doesn’t work out. I’ll leave. If it doesn’t help."

___

Scott was fifteen again, crying with fists balled at his sides saying goodbye to his best friend and unable to tell him why. This thing that he’d become, it would always come between them. He hadn’t been able to explain it then, standing against Stiles’s broken hearted anger, and he couldn’t find the words now. At the time he’d thought it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life but now, knowing what they could have…all the dreams that shouldn’t have been possible offered to him like they were real and tangible. Hope was the cruelest thing.

“There’s no case.” He murmured, head bowed and trying to pull away but caught in Stiles’s grip. “I never agreed to anything. There’s nothing you can do to help me, you need to let me go. You’ve wasted enough of your life looking for someone who doesn’t exist; it’s time you were able to move on.”

He almost broke at the plea, willing to do anything to keep his friend happy. “Stop.” The wolf kissed him gently, cupping Stiles’s face so he could look into those gorgeous eyes. Scott had to do this, he had to save him. However much it hurt, it was the right thing and he would bear the pain as he always had. “I don’t need you. I don’t…I don’t want you here. Don’t ever come back, I don’t want to see you again.”

Stiles was only human and Scott was glad he couldn’t read the lies in each beat of his heart.

___

They were in the back of an ambulance, and Scott’s face was covered in blood, but Stiles was the one crying. Scott was holding his hand so tightly Stiles thought his bones would break, but he couldn’t stop blubbering. Scott always took care of him, no matter how badly it hurt. 

"No. No, fuck you no, Scott. No." Stiles hissed, clenching his jaw, and pushing himself closer, like he wasn’t allowed to do. He was sure he’d said this all before.

His shoulders trembled, but his sobs were stifled against his best friend’s shirt. It wasn’t enough. Two days wasn’t enough, and Stiles didn’t want to give up. He never wanted to give up. They’d come leaps and bounds after years of silence, and why couldn’t Scott see the truth? They were good for each other. They’d always been good for each other. Nothing could change it, so why couldn’t Scott see it now?

He couldn’t scare Stiles away. Stiles would always do anything Scott asked of him.

"I need you." He rasped, and Scott hadn’t seen freedom in all the years he’d been gone. Stiles was still the one falling apart. "I can’t - not without you. I’ll do anything," he urged. "Just stop. Just stop."

Scott’s lips had tasted so sweet.

___

Scott wrapped his arms around his friend, nuzzling against his ear and murmuring nonsense. This was too hard, trying to save Stiles when he didn’t want to be saved. His heart shattered, tears streaking down his face no matter how he tried to keep his expression blank. There was no way to do this without Stiles but there was no way to guarantee he wouldn’t hurt him either. It wasn’t worth the risk, the monster had to come first. He wasn’t going to be safe unless he was back on a chain like he was meant to be.

It had been perfect. Too short, ended before it could have a chance to grow but it had been perfect. _He_ was perfect, his fearless, beautiful, stubborn human who owned half of his soul. Scott had forgotten what it had felt like to be himself without him, always living like he was missing a limb. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive it again.

“Hush, you can do this. You saved my life, that’s all you could have done. It’s over now, you can finally let go, Stiles. Please let me go.” Scott kissed his forehead, carefully untangling himself from Stiles’s arms with a determined push. He had to do this quickly or he’d falter and never let him go. Already his hands ached to pull him back, chest hollow and bleeding like a wound. It was worth it to save him. A life for a life.

“Leave. I’m not going to ask you again.”

___

Stiles had been on his way out of elementary school, just shy a few months, and covered in dirt and bruises they would never let their parents see. He’d decided then, with a heavy hand and ecstatic heart that he would give Scott anything he asked for, be it help with outpacing bullies or the moon on a silver platter. He’d held Scott until the asthma attack subsided, and they couldn’t hear their pursuers’ footsteps. 

But now, Scott was asking for the impossible.

"Make me." Stiles whispered, and he hadn’t moved from where Scott left him. His eyes were screwed shut, but that only slowed how tears fell. He could count the times he’d cried in front of Scott on his hands, but every one of those times, it had been Scott who made it all better. This wasn’t right. It was already too cold, and his hands were shaking. "What are you going to do? Push me out the door? The only way I’m going to stop is if you stop me."

It was as close as he could get to a threat. But the door to the room opened, and it wasn’t Scott the orderlies wanted to control now. “Officer Stilinski.”

He wanted to tell them he was a detective. He wanted Scott to love him again. 

Stiles tensed in place, but his gaze locked on Scott’s. “Don’t ask again. Or do. I don’t care. My answer is no. It’ll always _be_ no. I’m gonna come back here, and we’re gonna have this conversation all over again until you get it through your fucking skull, McCall. I’m not leaving you.”

The orderly’s hand on his arm startled him, but Stiles didn’t fight as he was tugged out the door.

___

Scott felt like he was being torn in two, every instinct screaming at him that this was wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be the one to hurt Stiles, that was the whole point. He was the one who healed, the one who believed in something better and when Stiles was in pain, he was in agony.

“Stiles!” Rage flared through him that someone would _dare_ lay a hand on his human, but the drugs they’d given to keep him calm kept the wolf inside too sedated to respond. Scott fought to control himself, this was what he wanted and he had to find a way to let his friend go. He stumbled backwards until he hit the wall, sliding down to the floor and burying his face in his knees, trying to block out the angry words. This was the right thing to do, he was a broken violent animal. He was dangerous, he couldn’t be saved.

_Oh god, I’m so sorry._

“Don’t let him back in.” His voice cracked, too high and shaking so he barely recognized it. “I don’t ever want to see him again!” The orderlies would be able to tell he was lying, but their job was to keep him calm and safe, not to analyze his broken heart. Scott closed his eyes feeling sick, the world torn away from beneath his feet. Even when he’d been with Peter, he had something to hold on to and anchored himself in memories. Now even the memories were too painful, a reminder of what he could have had. He had _nothing_ left.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP that has been fic-i-fied!
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on [tumblr](http://tmautog.tumblr.com/tagged/writing) and keep up with this story [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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